


A Matching Set

by kuppatan



Series: The Origins of Matt Murderdock [2]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Spider-Gwen (Comics)
Genre: Earth-65 (Marvel), Eye Horror, Vol 2 Issue 28
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 20:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14004627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuppatan/pseuds/kuppatan
Summary: He has his mother's eyes.





	A Matching Set

Green.

Green acid covers the scene in an offensive neon spray. Sprawled on the ground from the crash, Matthew Michael Murdock scrambles up from the asphalt; acid seeps into the nicks on his hands and through the gashes of his jeans. He pays no mind.

“Mom?”

Murky fog surrounds the area in a thick, malodorous haze. He hyperventilates it through his lungs as his wide, brown eyes dart around for any sign of his mom, Margaret Murdock. A hard working woman with a practiced charisma that came with gauging everyone she met and figuring out how to interact with them. 

“Everyone has something they want to hear or something they need to hear.” She said to him, watching one of the lawyer procedurals she always enjoyed picking apart. “It comes out in the way they act and the way they speak. Pay attention to people, Matthew. It’ll get you places.”

Her social ability aids her greatly in her as a paralegal and small time actress. At the moment, it wasn’t doing her any good. Unfortunately, there was no way to sweet talk the acid burning into her retinas or the laws of physics that caused the cacophonous crash of cars in the first place.

“Matt…?” Calls Margaret. It’s nothing like the cheery voice of the sitcom character she played or her strong, clear paralegal voice or her smart, steady voice she used at home. Her call is slow and drifting like the waking heaviness of a dream. 

He turns towards the sound of his mother.

“Matthew...son...where are you? I can’t… I can’t see…” Her voice fades in and out like radio static.

He strains his eyes through the smoke until he sees the a silhouette tinted dark green by the fog laying on the ground.

“Mom?” Matt stumbles over next to her. “Mom, hold on. Please… help is… `just…”

Matt drops down next to her on his knees. His ears strain for sirens but he can’t hear anything over the thick mental static in his ears. There is no crying or wailing. There is no screaming.

Her face is relaxed without a furrowed brow or pursed lips. Her long red hair haloes out from her head. Spatters of green, green acid stands out, almost glowing, on her skin. She stares up with clouded eyes.

“Closer, Matt…” She says, slowly. “I can’t… just need.”

Her hands raise up towards him and Matt leans his head in between them. She holds him gently with her green stained hands; her fingers caress his cheeks with burning acid and her soiled thumbs press just below his inner tear ducts. He stays in her touch as he looks at her calm. The feeling of everything crashing down doesn’t seem real juxtaposed with her steady, calm demeanor. As if the plan for late night groceries had gone as planned. As if there was no Oscorp truck carrying a load of unregulated radioactive isotopes.

Her fingers move to map out his face, feeling out the crevices of his eye socket and the delicate skin of his eyelids. Slipping, they graze the watery surface his cornea. It burns and stings like a million swords stuck into his eyes. Still, Matthew is unwilling to move from her touch; his mother’s imploring hands trying to fulfill her impossible last wish to see her son. The grief is heavy on his body. He stares at the face of his mother until her tousled curls and spattered form becomes an unrecognizable blur of red and green and then- nothing. 

Her hands hover at his temples, caressing them. A last show of affection. His eyes match hers, acid burnt pale and outlined in a dripping green neon mask. Finally, her hands lower slowly to her sides.

This is the beginning of Matthew Michael Murdock’s descent.


End file.
